


The Littlest U.N.C.L.E Agent Part 2 How Illya Kuryakin Comes of Age Part 4 Chapter 3

by 26foxbuck221



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 02:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6451741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/26foxbuck221/pseuds/26foxbuck221
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya continues his journey towards becoming his old self.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Littlest U.N.C.L.E Agent Part 2 How Illya Kuryakin Comes of Age Part 4 Chapter 3

The Littlest U.N.C.L.E. Agent

Chapter 3

I might be writing this as drabbles. Will have to see what my Muse does with it. As usual, I own nothing. No money just entertainment. 

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Solo perched on the side of the work table and eyed the 15 year old version of his partner. 

“You know I'm not going to give up.”

The golden head came up, then turned until Solo was looking into the frosty Russian blue eyes.

“Da, I am well aware of your tenacity. The answer is still, nyet. I am busy. Please go away.”

“You're always busy. Illya, you're a growing boy. You need fresh air…..”

“Stop. I am well aware of your arguments. I am not swayed.”

Solo flicked an invisible piece of lint from his slacks then inspected his finger nails. “You do understand that I could take this all the way to the top.”

“You would not…….nyet….I retract that. Of course you would. Why can you not simply leave me in peace!”

“Because, my young Russian friend, you have been hold up here for almost two weeks without a break. Except to eat and sleep and barely that, I think, the sleep anyway.”

“You are not going to drop this.”

“Not this time, not on a bet.”

“Fine. Where do you want to go?”

“We are taking tomorrow off, you and I. There is a little place, a little south of here, that I think you will find quite interesting. I'll be by to pick you up 9:30 am sharp. No excuses.”

“Fine. Now, may I get back to work? The preliminary concept and design of this device is quite intriguing.”

Solo slid forward to stand watching as he was dismissed without a backwards glance. With a shake of his head he started for the door but stopped to ask a question of one of the lab techs. “What exactly is Kuryakin working on?”

“Something he was developing as an adult. At his current age he wasn't able to quite pick up where he left off. But pretty darn close. I'm just glad that what ever it was Thrush did, it wasn't a long term thing. IK was working on several projects that will give us a couple steps up against Thrush according to some intel that we got hold of a few months ago. Of course the 3 weeks he was only a kid set us back time line wise. But hopefully we can play catch up now.”

“I will remind you that he is still a kid. He could do with some more down time.”

The tech held up his hands as if to stave off a physical attack. “He shows up on his own and stays. Leaving only to get something to eat. We shoo him out at 4 pm. But we can't lock him out during the day. And Mr. Waverly did send down a memo saying to keep him busy.”

“From now on I want him on some kind of reasonable schedule. He was trained as a gymnast. A good work out would be good for him. Pass it by my desk and I'll work on it.”

“Aye aye, boss.” He was snapped a slightly sarcastic salute. Solo let it slide and left. 

IOIOIOIOIOIOIO

Napoleon cast a sideways glance at his shotgun. At least the Russian hadn't tried to hedge out of the trip, although his silence waxed eloquent of his discomfort and Solo guessed he couldn't really blame him. Kuryakin had been exactly greeted with open arms when he first arrived as an adult. For a young teen finding himself suddenly torn away from all that was familiar, Napoleon couldn't even begin to fathom. 

Thirty minutes into the drive Solo felt the change. Illya was now alert to his surroundings. He had actually sat up and was scanning the shops and people as they drove through Brighton Beach. Solo felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips as he pulled into a parking space. Even before the car was fully stopped, the boy had his door open and was climbing out. Solo shook his head as he put the car in park and killed the engine and exited to join the Russian on the sidewalk. 

“Surprised?”

“This is…..yes…..a surprise. I would not have thought this possible. I read both Russian and Ukrainian!”

Napoleon threw up his hands with a smile and shrug. “Sorry, chum. It's all Cyrillic to me.”

The smile that was turned his way, genuine and warm all the up to the eyes made the brunette agent feel like he had won the million dollar lottery. “Come on, we've got all day. We can stroll around to your heart's content.”

There were shops that featured items of Russian craftsmanship. Metryoska nested dolls, Ukrainian eggs, bejeweled replicas of the fabulous Faberge Imperial eggs. Restaurants and tea rooms along with hardware and departments stores. 

“You tired of window shopping yet?”

“Window shopping? I have not been looking to buy windows, Napoleon. Do you need to buy any windows? Why did you not say so. I think we passed a…..”

Solo thew up his hands. “No, no. I really need to remember just how literal you are. Looking, browsing. Would you like to actually go inside a store instead of just look through the windows.”

“Ah, I see. Window shopping. I will try to remember this. Yes, I would like that, very much.”

“Well, it's almost 11:30. A long leisurely lunch. Let's find a restaurant. You will probably have to order for me.”

“I can do that, da.”

“Alright then. Let's hop to it.”

They walked a few blocks before Napoleon chose one. He knew that Illya would sometimes come to Brighton when he was feeling in need of some comfort of his motherland but no one they had passed seemed to have recognized his younger version, so far, and the restaurant staff were no different. The maitre'd smiled and held up one finger. The universal sign that he would be with them in a moment. Napoleon dipped his head then literally plowed into the back of his companion. 

Illya had come to an abrupt stop. Then snapped around to face Napoleon, gave a sharp shake of his head rounded the American and headed for the door. Perplexed and intrigued, Napoleon spun and followed him out.

“Illya, wait. What's going on.” He reached out to put a hand on the Russian's shoulder but the boy flinched away.

Solo let the hand drop away. “Tell me what's going on.”

“Nothing going on. Take me back”

“Illya...help me to understand.”

The Russian spun to face him, eyes hard, head high and unreadable. “ I cannot believe you Amerikanskaya know so little history. I will instruct you. You were behind me, yes? With a clear view of wall opposite door? Tell me. What did you see.”

Napoleon cast back, visualizing the restaurant. “There was a shield of some sort.”

“Very good, da. Now, what was this shield like.”

“White background…..a golden double headed eagle….one looking left, the other right. A banner bar sinister blue on…..”

Solo's head dropped. He closed his eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath.

“White Russia”

There came a scoffing laugh bit off short. “So, you do know there is a difference. I will not be welcome here. I go back now.”

Solo felt a sudden rush of anger. It was not directed at Illya but the whole rotten situation. Illya was accepted among the citizens of Brighton Beach, Little Odessa. But Napoleon had never stopped to consider that there might have been a time of trepidation or uncertainty on the part of the Soviet and the emerge population. Mostly Jewish who had had to flee Russia after the Bolshevik coup then the two world wars. One which this boy had fought through and survived. 

Napoleon gave himself a mental shake. Well I always wanted to know what my partner was like growing up, careful what you wish for, Solo.

Solo huffed a sigh and simply nodded. There wasn't much else to say. Once Illya grew past this stage it would be just another bad dream. The bellow of rage and the impact of solid but human bodies seemed to come in the same breath. Several men sped through spinning both Solo and Kuryakin apart and off balance.

“Vory! Ubiytsa! Politsiya!”*

Illya burst into action, sprinting after the fleeing figures. Solo only a few seconds behind. Illya caught up with the slowest of the runners, body slamming him to the sidewalk, then bouncing his head off the pavement before taking off again. Solo slowed only long enough to find a pulse then he took off after his partner. On the edge of his consciousness Solo was aware of the shrill blast of a police whistle, registering that it was somewhere to the rear. Then a streak past him on the right. Low to the ground and black and tan and Napoleon gave a huff of exasperation. A dog was not what they needed in the mix right now. 

As Solo cornered another runner, this one armed with a knife, two men in blue sprinted by, one carrying a dog leash. The knife man was experienced and knew how to handle his weapon, but his moves were jerky, a millisecond to slow. Two feints, and Napoleon had him down, disarmed and trussed up, hand and foot with his favorite silk tie. Then he was off again. The dog was snarling and there were sounds of a pitched battle, someone screaming obscenities while on pain.

Solo burst on the scene, a man down trying to grapple with the German shepherd which was savaging the man's right wrist. One policeman was calling her off, while the other stood by with handcuffs talking on a two way radio. At first Napoleon couldn't see Illya and that bothered him, but a quick scanning found the young blond Russian pressed up against a brick wall, his body in a stiff crouch, but even as Solo started for him, his posture began to change, slowly pushing himself up, tucking his legs under him. Solo caught him in mid lunge, forcing the trembling boy down until they were both on their knees face to face. 

“Sobaka” It was barely a hoarse whisper

“Never mind. Look at me.”

The blond head jerked. “Where is it….it must be killed before it can attack again.”

Napoleon cupped the chin gently forcing the head to still, hazel eyes trying to capture the attention of the wide blown blue.

“Look at me, Illya. Focus on me. Think. What was you doing before the d….the shepherd came. Think.” 

“Excuse me mister, but we would like a word with you two.”

Solo slowly stood scanning for the where about of the dog and keeping it out of Illya's own line of sight. The Russian slowly rising to stand beside him. “Look, officer, I understand that you need our depositions. But for right now, that is going to have to wait.”

“They will be with me, Officer Connors. You know where my shop is, yes?”

Solo and the policeman turned towards the speaker, a woman perhaps in her early to mid thirties. Chestnut hair done up in a bun.

“Yeah, I do, Mrs. Skovoroda . Alright then. But you make sure these two are there when we are ready for them.”

“Of course, officer. You have my word. There will be tea, and even treats for Trixie.** I just ask that this time, you do not bring her in. I will explain this later.”

She led Solo and Kuryakin down to the end of the block to a left turn then through the door under an awning advertizing books and tea to a small setting area. 

“Make your selves at home. I will make the tea. I think I can also serve zefir.”

Not surprisingly, Illya began to pace. Napoleon knew it was a normal reaction to the adrenalin rush the boy had just experienced. He was coming down and needed to work it off. 

As their hostess moved away, Solo followed. “Anything I can help you with?”

“You are very kind. Carry the tray, perhaps.”

“You said not to bring Trixie. Is that the dog's name?”

“She is well trained and very friendly when not working. But I know how upsetting it would be for your young friend. This is not easy to deal with, I know.”

“You have seen this before?”

She sighed and nodded. “My family was able to flee Russia in the late 40s. It was so very hard. Everyone was hungry. Even the animals that were not eaten for food themselves. The half wild dogs and wolves….”

She gave a shudder. “He is to young to have been in the war. But…...he is from the Soviet Union, yes? Maybe it is still bad there.”

“What happened? Can you tell me? I would like to help him to get over this phobia.”

“Truthfully, I don't know if one truly gets over something like this. Especially if he has witnessed…. “ She sighed then drew a deep calming breath.”The most documented incidence of animal attacks happened in 44. The wolves were so hungry they would come out of the forests and into near by villages. They were unafraid. In that year alone, Twenty-two people were attacked and eaten. The oldest victim was 17, the youngest was only 3.”***

Solo did the quick math. Illya would have been ten years old in 44. 

 

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*Vory! Ubiysta! Politsiya!: Thieves! Murderer! Police!

**Trixie. A German shepherd that people said was ugly. All you had to do is get off your bike and spend some time with her. She was a love. 

***Kirov Oblast

During World War 1, wolves attacked both German and Russian soldiers. First as individuals but then they began to hunt humans in packs. No doubt the same would have happened during the Second World War as well.


End file.
